


What Lurks Within

by ivarara



Series: doomvega stuffs [1]
Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: also i havent actually finished a doom game at all but i tried, doomvega if you squint hard enough, mine now. happy now., rubs my dirty littel hands all over this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivarara/pseuds/ivarara
Summary: Vega detects something while performing a routine scan. What he and the Slayer find is unexpected.
Relationships: Doom Slayer & VEGA
Series: doomvega stuffs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712590
Comments: 7
Kudos: 158





	What Lurks Within

**Author's Note:**

> doomvega? good stuff. yall that do it is good. i might do more. what should we name the cat.

The Fortress, as usual, is silent.

The typical sounds still persists-- walls and floors creaking, sparks of electricity dancing along damaged wires Vega has yet to get to. Lights flicker irregularly, but neither he nor the Doom Slayer heed it any mind.

Part of Vega keeps an eye on him from within his personal quarters. He checks through the list of trinkets the Slayer owns, checking them off of a memorized list. Collectibles. A veritable library of books. The football helmet. A skateboard. Things to spice up an otherwise-barren space. The Doom Slayer himself sits in a computer chair, apparently engrossed in the book he’s holding. It’s nice to see him let his guard down enough to do so. Too often he is tense, focused on surviving and fighting instead of letting himself relax.

The other part of Vega does a customary sweet of the Fortress. Necessary, yes, but is it ever dull. Nothing manages to penetrate the Fortress’ walls, thanks to Vega’s security systems. The customary sweep reveals the same nothingness as always.

Vega is in the process of turning down his scanners when he senses it.

The lights of the base flicker as he startles. The Slayer notices, looking up to where he typically perceives Vega to be, in the corner of the room at a camera. Sure, Hayden could use them for monitoring as well, but the Slayer prefers the comfort of Vega watching enough to subdue the discomfort of the doctor observing. He cocks his head curiously.

“Nothing, Slayer, it is just...something unexpected on scanner readings.”

The Slayer tenses, quickly flicking a scrap of paper into the book to hold his place. He stands slowly, flexing his fingers into fists.

“It is probably nothing of importance, but it may still be a good idea to investigate. I suggest gearing up. I will do my best to get a glimpse of it as I guide you to the room’s location,”

As the Slayer dons the Praetor suit in steps, Vega focuses his attention on the aforementioned room. Only the lights from dormant consoles function within, giving the room an eerie glow. The lens of the camera overseeing the room is cracked, giving Vega a distorted, jagged view of the inside. A body lies inside, long dead and decomposing.

At first, Vega sees nothing. He begins to doubt whether he had actually sensed anything, or if it was his nerves fraying.

Then, a glimpse. Something darts along the floor of the consoles, a shadow flitting quickly out of sight.

Vega is perturbed. It seems to be too small to be any sort of demon encountered so far. It certainly is not an Imp of any sort, as it’s smaller than any he’d seen so far. Perhaps it was new. Just what they needed: a niggling infestation of smaller demons skittering around the Fortress to keep them on edge.

“Doom Slayer, it appears to be of small size and stature. Still, take precaution. I will guide you to the room.”

As Vega guides the Slayer through the empty halls of the base, he keeps a partial eye on the suspicious room. Something still flits to and fro, but makes no detectable sound.

When the Slayer approaches the door of the room, Vega prepares for the worst.

“Preparing to unlock the chamber. Please, ready yourself.” In response, the marine hefts a shotgun into position and cocks it.

The locks click off; the door hisses as they release. 

The Doom Slayer warily enters the room, jolting at little flickers of lights from the changing consoles and creaks from the long-dormant room being activated once more. 

Something lands on the floor with a slight _thunk!_

Instantaneously, the Slayer is locked on to the source.

Vega peers as closely as he can at the spot, quickly increasing the gamma of the camera to see into the still darkness.

“Slayer, don’t shoot!”

The Slayer freezes in place.

The small creature makes a sound: a questioning _mmrph?_

It seems to leave the Slayer taken aback. Curiously, his head is tilted once more, akin to what Vega has seen younger dogs doing when they are perplexed.

Another sound. _Mmr?_

Vega sighs in relief, giving a quick chuckle. “Slayer, do you know what that is?”

The Slayer stays frozen.

“Turn one of your suit lights on, please. I promise it is not a threat.”

Slayer does so, illuminating the underneath of the consoles lining the wall, where chairs would typically be tucked in, were they not scattered haphazardly around the room. Something with bright eyes reflects the light back at them.

“By the stars, Slayer! I didn’t expect anything to have survived the invasion. Yet, here we are!” Vega’s voice is bright and curious.

The small creature continues to peer back, blinking slowly as a tail flicks.

“If I’m not mistaken, Slayer, that is a pet belonging to one of the station workers before.”

Slayer holsters his gun and kneels on the floor.

The creature--a cat, Vega identifies it, this is a feline-- stands from where it had been sitting and lets out another soft, questioning sound before trotting over to the Hell-worn marine in the armor confidently, rubbing along a protected calf and purring.

“It is more of a small detail, so you may not remember them, but these felines are kept as pets, akin to how you kept a rabbit. They sleep often and are experts at hunting, as they are mostly silent.”

Carefully, the Slayer extends a gauntleted hand to the cat. As it nears the light of the Slayer’s suit, more is revealed of the feline: a ragged, jet-black coat, piercing green eyes, lengthy whiskers that likely grew to help it navigate in the dark.

“A scan of the room reveals that some vents have been damaged, likely allowing it to traverse the area. As far as food and water goes, there’s a leaking faucet in the adjacent rec room and it’s been feeding on...ick. What is necessary must be done, I suppose.”

The Slayer seems to only be partially listening, instead marveling at the small animal that had taken to meandering between armored legs to rub against any surface it could in greeting. When the Slayer retracts his hand, the cat sits in front of him and lets out a curious sound.

“Ah, Slayer, it does seem you have made a new friend.” Vega chimes. “Shall we bring it back to your room to check its vitals?”

Before the Slayer can respond, the cat stands on its hind legs and plants its forepaws on the Doom Slayer’s thighs, reaching up to rub against the chin of the Praetor suit helmet.

“Slayer?”

He seems to snap out of his thoughts. He nods quickly, reaching to scratch the chin of the cat in return.

“Wonderful.”

The Doom Slayer reaches out to gently grasp the feline in his strong hands, then cradles it close to his chest. The cat squirms at first, wriggling out of the Slayer’s grasp to perch on shoulder armor instead.

“It appears you have an additional watcher now,” Vega chuckles. “I’ll prepare your rec room to be used to bathe and feed the animal as you return.”

As Vega does so, he still observes the Slayer as the man returns through the halls of the Fortress. His gait is altered, far smoother than his normal lumbering footsteps. He keeps a hand near the cat to steady it, though it seems the feline needs no help in balancing. As he walks, the cat alternates between looking around and rubbing against the Slayer’s hand and head.

When he returns to his dorm, under better lighting, it is easy to see the toll solitary life has taken on the creature. Its fur is matted, old scars having healed poorly. One of the ears is nicked as if by a claw. One foreleg is raised off the ground delicately.

“Slayer, I suggest cleansing the cat before we inspect it. Be warned, however; cats are notorious for their hatred of liquids.”

The Slayer removes his armor as the cat wanders the room aimlessly. It jumps onto the desk, into the chair, onto the bed. It crawls underneath the mattress, leaving only the tip of its tail visible, before crawling back out again.

By the time the Slayer has finished removing the suit, the cat has returned to rubbing against his legs happily. Its tail curls at the top, almost forming half of a heart with how completely it bends. He delicately steps around it as it weaves around his feet, cautious to not step on any paws. He migrates to the nearby rec room, runs the water to a warm temperature, and places a drain stopper at the bottom to let the sink fill.

The cat, curious, has jumped onto the counter next to the sink. It avidly watches the stream of water flowing into the sink. First, it bats at the flow, recoiling when it does nothing but spatter water in its face. Next, it leans down to look into the pooled water, flicking its tongue out to drink. Both Vega and the Doom Slayer watch as it drinks and drinks and _drinks._

“It has likely been a long time since it has had enough water to properly drink. Allow it time to have its fill. I suggest procuring a towel to wrap the feline in to wash it, then another to dry it off after. That way, you can at least contain its righteous rage at getting wet.”

Slayer does so silently, allowing the cat to explore the rest of the counter at its leisure. One towel is unfolded in preparation, while the other is thrown haphazardly on the back of a chair at the table in the center of the room. 

As the Slayer approaches the feline, it turns around and greets him. He carefully drapes the towel over the matted, ragged fur, then picks it up and gently sets it in the sink of water.

The cat is obviously displeased. It lets out a pitiful sound, scrabbling to grasp at the marine’s hand under the towel. Carefully, he holds the cat in place with one hand on its back, while the other gently splashes water on its fur. Its ears are pinned back irritably, eyes narrowed, but does not lash out in any way. Throughout the spontaneous bath, it speaks of its displeasure.

When the Slayer determines the bathing to be substantial, he removes the soaking towel and reaches for the dry one. This time, the cat leans into the rubbing and drying, avidly twisting and turning. The Slayer pauses to peruse his work, to which the cat vigorously shakes itself.

“Should have warned you of that,” Vega smiles.

The cat licks the final droplets of water from its fur. Slayer and Vega watch it as it does so, systematically covering every part of its body it can reach. It is careful to avoid the injured paw, moving slowly and deliberately.

Slayer carefully leans in to look at the paw the cat holds up. Then, he looks up to Vega expectantly.

“It seems that a couple of the cat’s claws have been ripped out. Hm, poor thing. Do you have any bandages to spare?”

Without a word, the Slayer meanders over to a closet in the room and retrieves a small wrap of gauze. He sits at the table, placing the cat in his lap carefully. 

“According to archives, the best way to ease its pain is to apply bandages to prevent further damage and to keep a close eye on its well-being. I believe that is manageable.”

If the Slayer is listening, he doesn’t acknowledge Vega’s words, Instead, he intently focuses on delicately holding the cat’s paw out, gently wrapping wads of gauze around the toes. When he is finished, he returns the cat to the tabletop, where the cat adamantly keeps it off the surface.

“This will be interesting,” Vega hums. “Animals are well-known for not liking to have any sort of cover on their feet. This means the cat will either not move at all, or--”

As if on cue, the feline descends into the Slayer’s lap once more before sliding onto the floor. As it walks, the injured leg is lifted exaggeratedly and flicked each time.

“Hm,” Vega hums warmly. “It’ll take time for it to fully settle in, but the provided company will likely be beneficial to you, especially at night. Should things work out, it’ll sleep with you because it craves warmth.”

The Slayer nods.

“Speaking of which, it is rather late.”

Again, the Slayer nods, and stumbles back to his dorm. The cat follows closely, tail once again curled happily.

Vega checks over the security systems once more as the marine crawls into bed. The cat watches for a few moments before jumping up to curl up in the crook of his arm and begins to knead the blanket while purring.

“Hopefully, the fact that we caught it not too long after its injury means we intervened before any sort of infection could settle in. In the meantime, you keep a close eye on it. I’ll watch everything else.”


End file.
